


Romeo and Juliet Against the World

by anupturnedboat



Category: Roswell (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, My Original OTP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:50:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anupturnedboat/pseuds/anupturnedboat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had known what Max would say. The only thing he could say. “It’s not safe, we can never go back.”</p>
<p>Angsty one-shot set several years post series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romeo and Juliet Against the World

**Author's Note:**

> Because I often randomly wonder what these two are up to.

_L.A. is too shiny, too sharp_.

It made her long for rustic browns and muted oranges. Desert sunsets, roadside diners, mysteries, and whispered promises – new, and fervent and caught in the moment.

"L.A. is too shiny, too sharp," she said to him once, tipsy, frantic and sad. He had moved to hold her, but she’d shimmied away, irritated by the alarm in his eyes.

She had known what Max would say. The only thing he could say. _“It’s not safe, we can never go back._ ”

She would tell herself not to hate him for it. She had made a choice. Long ago, when he was the only future she could see. It wasn’t his fault that what had made her so sure then, was slowly fading away now.

This place was too shiny especially on nights like these, when she closed her eyes, and there were only uncompromising shards of light and noise and heat.

Liz rolled over. Max’s hair still fell across his forehead in a boyish way, but tones of gray were slowly creeping in. There are dark circles under his eyes, even though he slept for hours and hours, and once for a whole day, while she paced back and forth unsure if it meant anything.

She sighed and kicked the sheets from her legs.

She missed home – her parents, the Crash Down, Jim Valenti . . . just everything.

She stood over the sink in their dismal apartment, the grimy window offering a view of an even grimier parking lot. The sheets rustled as Max rolled over but did not wake.

She missed the Liz that was a Parker, and not yet an Evans. That Liz was just a wisp of a girl in her peripheral vision now. She was the Liz who went away to college and became a biologist, or a professor, or an engineer.

She’d always wonder what New England was like in the fall.

She missed Maria. How long had it been? Two years, maybe more? It felt wrong that she had no way of knowing where her friend was or how to get in contact with her.

She missed Isabel, and wouldn’t even be mad if she stopped by in a dream every now and then, although Liz knew Isabel wouldn’t take a risk like that.

She worried about Michael, who was the last to go, but whom they hadn’t heard from in almost six months.

The streets, glossy with bright lights, and the hurried ebb of cars thrummed a frenetic beat that sucked the air out of her lungs. Danger, worry, and sadness etched sharp angles into her skin, and she missed, all of those things and more.


End file.
